Scrivenings of the King-Beyond-The-Wall

Western World #8

When Edward Jameson announced to his family that they were moving west to help establish a bank in a newly settled area, his daughter, Abigail, could hardly mask her dismay. The bustling city life she adored—filled with bookshops, social gatherings, and museums—would be traded for dusty streets and the unknown wilderness of the frontier.

The journey west was long. They traveled by a train that shook and rattled over the tracks, making Abigail's bones ache and her head swirl with doubts. As they moved farther from the city, the landscape changed from lively neighborhoods to sprawling plains.

Their destination was a small, developing town named Brooksdale. It was nothing like the city. The streets were unpaved, buildings were rudimentary, and everything was covered in a fine layer of dust. The bank, a modest wooden structure, stood at the town’s center, looking woefully out of place.

Abigail’s father was brimming with excitement, eager to begin his work. “This town is ripe with opportunity, Abby. We’re not just opening a bank; we’re laying the foundations for prosperity!”
Abigail tried to share her father's enthusiasm, but she missed her old life terribly. The quiet of the town was unsettling, the lack of familiar faces, disheartening. She spent her days helping her mother settle into their new home, a cozy cabin with creaky floors and drafty windows, while longing for the city's constant buzz.

As weeks passed, Abigail slowly began to adapt. She met the townspeople, each with stories of hope and ambition. There was Mrs. Bailey, who ran the local inn, and Mr. Thompson, the blacksmith, whose laughter was as loud as the clangs of his hammer. There was young Tommy, who brought fresh milk every morning and spoke of one day owning the biggest dairy farm in the state.

Her father's bank became a cornerstone of the growing community. People respected and appreciated his efforts to bring stability and growth. Watching him, Abigail began to understand the impact of their move. The bank was more than a business; it was a lifeline for the settlers, providing them with the means to build, trade, and thrive.

With time, the raw edges of Brooksdale softened. The town grew, slowly but surely, as did Abigail’s fondness for it. She started teaching the children to read and write, realizing that education was sparse on the frontier. Her small classroom became a place of joy, a way for her to contribute to Brooksdale's future.

One evening, as she walked home under a starlit sky, Abigail reflected on her journey. The fears and losses of the move had given way to a sense of belonging and purpose. Brooksdale was no longer just a speck on the map; it was her home, a place where she had grown as much as the saplings they had planted in the spring.

“I was wrong about this place, Father,” she admitted one night at dinner.

Edward looked up, his eyes twinkling. “How so?”

“It’s rough, yes, and wildly different from what I knew. But it’s a place of new beginnings, not just for the land, but for us, too.”

Her father smiled, his pride evident. “I knew you’d see it, Abby. You just needed a little time.”


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(535 words)


Prompt: When your father is transferred west to open a bank in a newly settled area, it's a much rougher life than you had in the big, bustling city.